Not Who You Say You Are

Chapter Three

December 23rd, 2022

This last week has been complete and utter chaos. After I read that I was accepted into NYU, both myself and Miles started squealing like seven-year-old girls for about ten minutes. It ended with both of us lying on the floor panting for about twenty minutes. Then I called Mom back to tell her the good news, which resulted in her squealing like a seven-year-old for ten minutes. However, by then I was too exhausted to join her. That night, Miles and I had amazing sex, and I slept like a baby. Feeling nothing but relief and gratitude.

The next day, I took great delight in emailing my professors to let them know I would not be returning to class after the holiday break. It felt like I was doing a soul cleanse. College felt like such a chore. Every day was so predictable. I would get up, go to class, come home, struggle to finish an assignment, go to bed, and repeat. But now to be able to wake up, truly excited for the day, is something I'm so grateful for. Mom is already sending me apartment listings in New York, so it's clear she's excited about the big move too. Especially because New York is much closer to Miami than Los Angeles.

The closer the date came, the more antsy Miles became. He was worried about what to wear and what to say, and generally how he could make the entire Quinn family like him. I told him there was nothing he could do about that, seeing as most of them don't even like each other. But still, being the person he is, he made it his mission to make an impression. A good one. Having a family is something he's always talked about. A functional, stable family. It is so important to him. I know he feels that family connection with my immediate family but I genuinely don't know how to get it through to him that he won't feel that with my extended family. I've prepped him for the worst. That some of them may not even speak to him, and some may ask rude and invasive questions. He seems to think I'm joking.

Last night, we met up with some of our college friends and went out for drinks to celebrate NYU, and to see each other one more time before Christmas. A few of them were planning on heading home the next day too, so we didn't want to be out too late. But of course, that didn't happen and Miles and I ended up getting home at 4 AM, and basically crashed into bed. 

Miles shakes me awake. We definitely overslept. Well, I did at least. It's eleven-thirty in the morning. Our flight leaves at five in the afternoon. Miles frantically scurries around the apartment like a stressed mother before a vacation. It looks like he's been up for a while. He is showered and completely dressed. My head is pounding and the last thing I want to do is get on a plane. We made sure our bags were packed before we went out last night, so I'm not really sure why he's acting like this. We would only be away for five days, so we didn't pack much. Well, my definition of 'not much' is very different to Miles'. I have a relatively small suitcase, containing a few changes of clothes and the basic essentials, whilst Miles has a horrifically oversized suitcase that is still somehow bursting at the seams. Mom sent us our plane tickets, and of course, she booked us first class even though it would only be a five-hour plane ride.

I listen to him run around the living room as I lay there. I can hear him stressing about his plants that will most likely die whilst we're away. Then, he runs back into our bedroom.

"Theo!", he yells. "Up! Now! We're going to be late!"

He drags me out of bed. Miles wants us to get to the airport at around two, and there's no debating. I brush my teeth and quickly get in the shower. I put on the clothes I laid out yesterday and grab my bag before Miles hurries us out of the door. We stand outside our apartment building, ready to head to the airport. The Uber arrives right on time and we both hop in. We are greeted by a middle-aged man who, according to Miles' Uber app, is called Peter. He gives us a friendly smile as we buckle our seatbelts.

"Off to LAX?", Peter asks enthusiastically.

Miles loves talking to Uber drivers. He finds hearing strangers' life stories fascinating, so I let him take the lead.

"We sure are", Miles responds, matching his energy.

"Lovely", Peter counters. "Where are you guys going?"

"We're headed down to Miami for a night, then spending Christmas in Key Largo", Miles informs him.

"Oh wow!". Peter's eyes widen. "I'm actually heading down to Miami tomorrow too!"

"No way!", Miles gasps.

"Yeah, to spend time with my family", Peter explains. "You two seeing any family?"

"Spending it with Theo's family", Miles gestures to me. Then in an exaggerated Royal English accent, "At the Quinn Island Estate". He giggles, and I smirk. Then I stop. Something is off. Peter doesn't respond like he has been. I look towards the rearview mirror and jump a little as my eyes lock on to his. He's glaring at me. The hairs on the back of my neck prick up and I feel a horrible sinking sensation in my stomach. I don't know why.

"Quinn?", he asks. His voice has shifted from what was friendly and sociable, to cold and pointed. Pointed directly at me.

"Yeah?", I answer. He keeps staring at me, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Hm", he huffs, finally taking his eyes off me and looking back to the road.

"Do you know them?", Miles asks in the same cheery expression. He obviously hadn't noticed Peter's tonal shift.

"No", Peter responds. "But I know the island".

Peter's eyes lock back onto mine in the mirror. I give him an uncomfortable nod and a half smile before looking away. Miles and Peter chat the entire ride to LAX, but I just keep my head down, my eyes focused on my phone. I zone back in as Miles brings up his irrational fear of alligators and being eaten alive.

"Just don't go swimming in stupid places, or at night and you'll be fine", Peter responds. 

The Los Angeles traffic is terrible on a good day, but the day before Christmas Eve is something else. However, much to Miles' delight, we still manage to arrive at LAX a few hours early. We both climb out of the car and retrieve our suitcases from the trunk. Miles hurries to the entrance and I'm about to follow, but my phone slips out of my hand as I adjust my hoodie. It lands on the ground with a thud.

"Fuck", I mumble as I lean over to pick it up. No damage.

"Theo", Peter calls from the car. I turn around, wondering if I'm hearing things. I'm not. Peter has wound the window down and is staring at me again. It's not the same look as before. This one has an undertone of something else. Something unsettling. I turn around to see if Miles is witnessing this, but he's already inside. I turn back to Peter.

"Merry Christmas", Peter says with a smirk before driving away.